


The Last Waltz

by HighlandYorkie



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Angst, Ghosts, Haunting, M/M, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-04
Updated: 2012-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 03:45:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/351617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighlandYorkie/pseuds/HighlandYorkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moran and Moriarty share a last waltz</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Waltz

**Author's Note:**

> The song "Last Waltz" by The Rasmus goes with this very well

The was something about the old place that brought back a smile to his well worn features as he slowly walked to up the door and placed the key in the lock, not even sure if the key would turn after all this time

Gently he turned the key and let out a sigh as there was a faint click and he felt the door give a little, pushing the heavy oak door with both hands the old man wrapped up against the chills of spring coughed as the stale air of the long abandoned building rushed out to greet him like some long lost lover.

Colonel Sebastian Moran gave a dry chuckle as he stepped over the threshold, it felt so strange coming back here to these rooms year after year but something had drawn him to them once more just like it always did on this date.

Maybe his advancing years had forced him to recall his youth and then the times he had spent in the employ of Professor James Moriarty or just maybe deep down he knew that one day he too would be nothing but a forgotten footnote in history.

Whatever the reason, he had crossed his beloved foggy London cursing as usual at the coldness and the bustling crowds that no longer had time for anyone least of all an old man who seemed to belong to another time and place.

The recent horrors of the Great War were still fresh in the minds of those who had hurried by him, some had the all too familiar look of a man who had seen the stark reality of war, there was nothing noble about a battlefield…nothing except the silence, that all too brief silence you get moments before all hell breaks loose and you realise that you are indeed facing hell on earth.

Despite what some thought of him, Colonel Moran felt a deep sense of sorrow when Europe had been plunged into what everyone hoped was the war to end all wars.  But he knew better, humanity the professor had once mused always strives towards conflict, it is our nature…the survival of the fittest, to conquer or be conquered..that was the way of man.

Moran was grateful when he closed the door and blocked out the noise of the what was to be called the “roaring twenties”

He felt at ease in the silence, the darkness didn’t frighten him, it never had.  Slowly he moved to the wall and sort out the box that hid the main switch for the lights.  Flicking one, he smiled as the globe not far from him slowly came to life, basking the hallway in an eerie glow.

Looking around in the dim light he suddenly felt so very old, shadows on the edge of his vision seemed to move by themselves and beckon him but the colonel just shook his head.

“Not tonight lads, no time for memories..not tonight”

Using his cane for support he hobbled slowly down the corridor, disturbing the thick layer of dust that had carpeted the wooden floor, and still the shadows toyed with him, some beckoned while others seemed to dance on the edge of his vision.

Familiar faces formed and then vanished into nothing as he sort them out.

“Don’t do this to me” he pleaded.  “I’m not in the mood for games”

His gloved hand paused on the door handle of the room before him and on instinct he straightened himself up, knocked quietly and entered, his bowed slightly as always..

Only he knew there would be no answer, the professor was long gone and yet Colonel Moran kept this old house as it was, a shrine to the past buried in a city that only looked to the future

“Well, it’s that time again Professor” Moran addressed the empty room, a look of sadness on his face.

Walking across to the desk brushing away the dust-webs that clung to every surface as he did so, the colonel stopped next to the forlorn looking empty chair and opened his long overcoat taking out a single sealed envelope and a budded red rose and placed them both with the many others that sat unopened or wilted and dried upon the desk gathering dust.

Looking at the pile of dirt covered unopened correspondence and the once beautiful roses, Moran wished he could forget just how long it had been, but he couldn’t he knew to the very minute just how long he had been so very alone.

What those fools that wrote about Professor Moriarty didn’t know, was that he was so much more than just a mathematical genius, or even a criminal mastermind.  He was the greatest man Sebastian Moran had ever known and most of all, on a purely personal level he was not only his employer, he was his friend, companion and his lover.

Placing his hat and cane on the armchair that he would have occupied when waiting for instruction from Moriarty, Moran strode over to the old phonograph and took a slightly dusty record from a well worn cover then with a gentleness that he preferred to use in the bedroom, he placed the record on the turntable and turned the handle, then positioning the needle he nodded and smiled as music so dear filled the air.

“You always did like this music Moriarty” he whispered half to himself, slipping his hand once again inside his overcoat he pulled out a hip flask and took a hearty swig.

“Happy birthday Professor”

Then closing his eyes, he began to dance to the music, a simple waltz, humming along to the melody.

The shadows around Colonel Moran deepened and from the gloom stepped the ghostly figure of a man.

“Good evening Sebastian, so kind of you to remember”

Colonel Sebastian Moran, opened his eyes wide and gulped.

“Professor..is that really you?”

The figure said nothing but stepped forward and taking the lead, joined him in dancing to the music.

“I miss you, James” Moran struggled to speak as the words caught in his throat as he fought back tears.

His phantom dance partner, still remained silent but now it leaned against him, Moran found the chill oddly welcoming and clung to the ghost of the past, as if his life depended upon it.

Then slowly the phantom that was once Professor James Moriarty kissed the lips of Colonel  Moran, this was not a kiss of two strangers but of those that were lovers, who still are and forever would be.

“Soon” the phantom whispered against Moran’s lips as they danced kissing all the while

The needle jumped on the phonograph and Sebastian Moran blinked hard, tears streaming down his face as he took in his empty embrace.  Wishing, hoping that there was a way to continue this last waltz.

“Aye professor soon, but not soon enough if I’m truthful…this world isn’t for the likes of me, I’m a relic of an age they no longer understand”

Wiping his eyes, Moran replaced the old record back in it’s cover and collecting his things he once more headed for the front door.  He gave one last lingering look at the old place, wondering how many more years he would have to repeat the same ritual..until he too became a shadow, a memory of the past.  Flicking the switch he once again plunged the house into darkness and stepped out into the street, locking the door behind him.

Out in the still busy street the fog had gotten even thicker, Colonel Moran smiled and nodded his approval, thankful that at least somethings hadn’t changed.

Seeing an old man coming towards him through the fog, struggling with bags that were way too heavy and awkward Moran stepped to one side to make room only to realise his error a little too late.

In the dark study, the coal in the fireplace ignited and an old waltz began to play as a man of middling years appeared seated at his desk, a hand gently caressing the pile of unopened correspondence, while he sniffed the last rose placed.

A gentle knock at the door caused him to look up, a smile etched upon his stern but handsome features

“Come in Colonel, glad to see you are as punctual as ever”

The door opened and in walked a familiar old man, his clothes slightly torn and bloodied a look of confusion upon his face, his battered hat held in his hand.

“Oh my dear Sebastian this will not do” the other man said softly.

Standing slowly he then walked to his visitor and kissed him, a special kind of kiss that only happens once when two lovers are reunited for the final time.  As if by magic, the years melted away and the once old man was now in the prime of life, his eyes gleamed and burned with a passion he had thought long lost.

“Professor, I-” he went to speak but was silenced as the ghost of Professor James Moriarty kissed him briefly before leading him to the centre of the room and offered his hand.

“I believe my dear Sebastian Moran, that this last waltz is ours”


End file.
